


Older

by GreenHeadedTanager37



Category: GOT7
Genre: Arguing, Childhood Friends, Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, If you only read one work by me, Introspection, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Muffins, One Shot, Protective Im Jaebum | JB, Reader-Insert, Relationship Issues, Showers, Soft Im Jaebum | JB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenHeadedTanager37/pseuds/GreenHeadedTanager37
Summary: The door slammed behind the man you called your lover, and you felt like crumpling to the ground.Another day, another fight. You never thought things would turn out like this. When you were little you always thought things were easier, that life ran smoother, that people were happier. But the world changes so much when you get older.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB & You, Im Jaebum | JB/You, Im jaebum reader
Kudos: 14





	Older

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the song Older by Sasha Sloan. Definitely check out the song out if you like the story, it's really good :)  
> (Some slight mentioning of fighting and being hurt in this one, so be careful if that's hard for you to read, but it's not much)

The door slammed behind the man you called your lover, and you felt like crumpling to the ground. So you did, running desperate hands through your hair. Sobs broke from your lungs before you could stop yourself, as if they had just been waiting until you were alone. You held your wrist, rubbing the tender red marks with a shaking thumb and trying to calm down.

You cried easily. At least that was what people told you. But it seemed like some days you just couldn't stop.

The hot tears streaming down your face were finally opening your eyes. Like warm water washing away a film, your tinted glasses shattered.

A memory struck you, much more similar to this moment than you would have ever admitted. The same tears, angry, hurt, and confused, fell onto your pillow in your childhood bedroom. Muffled words came through the walls, prevailing over the music you were playing to drown them out. They were at it again, yelling and arguing in the kitchen. You had slipped away when you saw the warning signs brewing, but you hadn't wanted to be right.

You hugged your blanket wrapped around your stomach. Rocking back and forth, you turned the music up and just tried to block it all out. But, like yours tears, the words just kept coming and you buried your face in your knees.

"Hey!" Came a whispered voice, making you jump and pull your head up.

The face of a young boy was at your bedroom window, and he beckoned hurriedly. Still crying some, you got off your bed and went over to unlock it. When you did, he pushed it open and grabbed your hand without a word, his eyes darting to your door at a particularly loud yell from your parents. Then, he pulled you outside and you were off running.

He took you down through your backyard, over the fence, and out among the overgrown grass till you came upon a little beaten dirt path. Now that you were past all of the potential rocks and sticks to trip on, you would often just close your eyes and bawl, letting him tug you along as you ran. After a while of the monotonous thumping of your feet on the ground and the tug, tug, tug on your arm, you would begin to calm down as you neared his house. You would wipe your eyes and nose as you clambered up onto the high porch and followed him inside.

It seemed like, nearly always, entering his house meant you were hit with a wall of good smell. Maybe it was cookies, or maybe it was dinner, it didn't matter. His mother was always making something warm and delicious and comforting.

The kitchen was all yellow, in wallpaper and lighting. Even the aroma seemed yellow. You'd grab a tissue and settle onto one of the barstools, greeting Mrs. Im and blowing your nose. Sometimes, if she was making something easy, she'd have you both wash your hands and help her. Other times, when she needed to focus, she'd send you both to play in Jaebum's room until she called you. But in the end you and Jaebum always ended up eating whatever it was, his mother chatting you up about school and activities while she made another batch or started the dishes.

Back in the present, you gave a hard sob, still rubbing your wrist. You always wanted to be like his mom. Stable, happy, warm. But instead you had grown up like your own mother. Here you were, fighting with your boyfriend. Routine screaming matches that were slowly turning into tussles. You used to be so mad, wondering why your parents couldn't just be happy. But loving was so much harder than you had ever thought.

Cold chills prickled across your arms and you were gasping for air. A tingling numbness had spread through your lips and hands. Your fingers were shaking violently and you longed for someone to hold them still. Instead you took your sweater and, after several tries, zipped it all the way up. Pulling it up around your neck and chin you muffled your small gasps and hiccups in the fabric. Leaning back against the wall in the rundown little apartment you tried to just breathe.

One time as a child you couldn't stop crying, and he sat down with you on the porch, swinging his feet back and forth off the edge while you wailed. After sitting mutely for a few minutes, he slowly put his arms around you. You had drawn in a surprised, shaking breath, then let it out into his shoulder. Throwing your arms around him, you cried a little quieter, muffled in his jacket. He kept hugging you until you stopped.

You wished you could go back to that time. When you could be comforted without having to deal. Without having to explain and discuss everything that was wrong with you. You could just be, with all your emotions. You could just be, and be accepted. You wished you didn't have to talk things out. You never been very good at talking. Maybe it ran in the family.

Later on, your parents eventually divorced when you were a teen. You were passed back and forth depending on the week.

You remember telling Jaebum about how mad you were that your parents had split up. Why couldn't they just make it work? Why did they make you live through every little fight if they were just going to give up?

Jaebum had said that sometimes it was better to let someone go.

You had never believed him. But you were just a kid back then. You didn't understand that they didn't have everything figured out. That it wasn't so simple.

He knew what it was like. His biological father had left long ago when his mother chose family and her husband chose alcohol. His step-dad was always good to him, and to you.

It made you wish you could have good parents too. Ones that felt the same as yours. Except they never fought. Ones that would kiss and say those sticky sweet things to each other. A family where everything was fine. You prayed for that sometimes.

But you never got one.

Your parent's shouts echoed in your mind, mirroring your recent bout with your boyfriend. You sniffed and looked blankly across the apartment.

"Why can't you just make it work y/n?" You asked yourself.

Swallowing, you used the wall to stand up, moving towards the kitchen. You walked past a mirror hung on the wall and caught your reflection in the corner of your vision. Your hair was frizzy and messy, your eyes red and painful. It was like looking inside yourself, at the messed up, tender parts that were out on display. 

You looked down and away and kept walking. Your wrist swung into your vision, angry, stinging marks where you had pulled yourself away from him. They would probably bruise. Blinking the thought away, you settled into the barstool at the island and picked up your phone, sending off a text.

It read, 'What are you doing?'

It was your way of saying, 'Come here'. It always had been, for some reason. After only a few minutes of tracing the marble with your finger to distract yourself, a response vibrated the counter.

'Where are you?'

'The apartment,' you sent back.

'On my way' came through almost immediately.

An unknown amount of time later, there was a knock on the door. You had to let him in. Your limbs felt heavy as you forced yourself to stand up. You started to realize how tired you were, blinking stinging eyes as you went.

You twisted the knob slowly, cracking the door, then letting it swing open when you confirmed who it was.

Jaebum's eyes widened at your appearance, but not much. He would have known something was wrong as soon as you sent the familiar text.

He held out his arms, and you ducked into them. He embraced you tightly, a firm security that felt so scarce everywhere else. He walked you backwards a step or two so he could close the door behind him and lean against it. His hand rubbed soothing circles into your back.

"What is this about?" He questioned lowly, the words rumbling in his chest.

"It's just, been a rough day..." You mumbled. Of course he was mad. Why did he always have to be mad about this? Everyone was always mad.

"You don't text me like that when it's just a rough day y/n."

But his voice was surprisingly soft. He gathered your hair together behind your shoulders from where it had been sticking to your face.

"Is it him again?"  
You blinked quickly as moisture prickled in your eyes, and you nodded.

Jaebum sighed. The wind blew outside the apartment. His heart thumped evenly in his chest.

Then his words came, more uneven than you'd ever heard them.

"Y/n, please," he pleaded, still holding you close, "will you please drop him?"  
You shook your head, trying to ignore how thick his voice was.

"He's no good for you, please," he said again, "not when he treats you like this."

You shut your eyes, trying to shut out the truth. You'd love to be free.

"Just let him go, for me, for yourself, just let him go."

You were shaking your head still, your face coming up, "I can't, I can't-"

You were shocked that there were tears in his eyes when they met yours. He never cried. Never.

"Why not??" He said, searching your face as if it held the reason.

"Because I can't give up!" You blurted out, pulling back. "I can't give up because then I'll have failed just like- like-" you looked away, not able to see him as he looked more broken up by the second.

"And then, if- if I do, t- then, I'll be alone again. I can't be alone."

"What about me?"

Your gaze came up from where it was fixed on the carpet. He still had tears in his eyes, but his brow was furrowed and his jaw was set.

"I'll be there." He said.

Your chin started to quiver and you suddenly felt like shrinking away.

But he took a step forward, "If you don't want to be alone, then be with me."

"I..." You started to respond, a longing unfurling in your chest, "That's not an option."

"Why?"

You hugged yourself, tucking your chin into your sweater, "Because what if we end up the same way? What if you hate me too? What if we fight and argue all of the time, just like everyone else?"

"I'll never hate you." He said firmly. Then, a little less certainly, he continued, "I can't promise that we'll never argue, but we'll make it through. And I'll never..." His eyes flicked down to your exposed wrist, and you quickly pulled your sleeve down, "... I'll never hurt you like him."

The feeling in your chest expanded further and yet you hardly dared to hope. You swallowed hard and gazed around with tired eyes, "C- can we just, go somewhere else, for a while? I'm," you looked up at him, "I'm really tired, Jaebum."

The ride over to Jaebum's apartment was quiet, but comfortable. He had guided you outside and down to his car with an arm over your shoulder. Soft RnB played over the radio and you gazed out the window at the orange, late afternoon sky. When you arrived, you had just gotten off your shoes when he put a hand on your head.

"How about you go take a quick shower? I'm sure that'll help you feel better."

You nodded under his hand, and smiled a little before trudging off down the hall. Jaebum's house was cozy and neat, not quite so home-y as his mother's, but somehow still reminiscent of it. You turned on the shower and stepped in, shoulders slumping and head dropping now that you could finally relax. The hot spray on your back and scalp felt amazing.

The shower was such an intimate place. It was warm, and enclosed, and you were naked and alone. It was walled thickly enough, and with the sounds of the water and the heater you didn't ever have to worry about what was going on outside of the little room. You supposed if you had ever lived with Jaebum when the two of you were little then you probably would have showered or bathed with him, like a sibling. You shook off the thought. It was so weird now that you two were older.

'Older'. That was such a strange concept. You lathered soap over yourself with your hands. Your body had changed, sure, but, weren't you still the same scared, small child who hid in the shower just to escape?

You let a gush of hot water flood over your face and stream through the roots of your hair, washing away the shampoo and suds. But really, your mind had changed more than you thought.

Jaebum had been right. Your parents weren't superheros. They might be in the wrong, but maybe there wasn't a right choice from their perspective. If they'd stayed together, they might have just been prolonging everyone's pain. That thought just hadn't been able to get to you as a kid. It just hadn't hit you yet. That happiness wasn't always the default emotion. That your parents had pasts that were longer than your own life, and their wounds and shortcomings could still define them, even after they brought a child into the world.

You worked conditioner through your hair mindlessly, fingers slow as you reflected.

You wondered if you should call your mother. It had been a while since you last talked to her. You wondered what you would say if you did. Would you be able to express your emotions and feelings the same way they were swirling in your head today? Or would you end up tongue-tied and saying the same old things?

Thinking about your parents reminded you that your boyfriend was still out there somewhere. Probably at a bar, or just driving around recklessly to blow off steam. But your mind didn't stay on him for long. It was just like how you never thought of your parents for long when you ran off with Jaebum as a kid. The thoughts of the people that you fought with, and all of the stress that came with them, melted away when you got inside.

You stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around yourself, drying your hair while still lost in thought. After you had gotten dressed, you hung the towel up and ventured out into the hallway. A soft hum came from the kitchen area, the noise of the oven running, and you glimpsed Jaebum moving around in there. You sat on one of the barstools at the island quietly, as he had his back turned.

There was a pan of muffins in the oven, and he was checking them to see if they were ready. You couldn't help but smile.  
He set the timer for another two minutes and straightened up, taking off his oven mitt and stretching his back. You had your chin resting in your hand, and gave him a grin when he turned around. 

He jumped a little with surprise and laughed, "How long have you been there?"

"Just a minute," you said, "Why? Have you been doing weird things?"

"No," he said defensively, "I'm making muffins."

"Thanks." You smiled.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down, "It's just a box mix, so hopefully it'll still be good."

"Box mix muffins are great," you reassured him, "you didn't have to make anything."

He looked at you for a minute, then smiled, "Are you feeling better?"

You nodded, but couldn't respond as a yawn split your lips. You blinked your eyes back open to see him looking at you fondly. 

You flushed and covered your mouth, "what?"

"Nothing." He said, moving to check on the muffins again as the timer went off, "Why don't you go sit on the couch, I'll bring you one of these in a sec."

You did, going and sitting on the couch by the window and curling up in the quilt that was sitting there. You admired the potted plant on the side-table, petting the fresh green leaves. In a few minutes Jaebum came in with two muffins and napkins, giving you one and settling onto the ottoman next to you.

You chatted for a while about nothing much while you ate. The muffins were delicious, hot and moist, with an abundance of gooey chocolate chips. You ended up laying down on your side with your head on the arm of the couch, Jaebum propped up on his elbow next to you, the trash discarded and forgotten on the floor. Your eyes were beginning to sting again, but with your stomach full and your body warm, you no longer felt stretched-thin and exhausted, just sleepy and peaceful. You had also ended up sharing the huge blanket with Jaebum.

The conversation had slowly turned back towards the events of the day. And what Jaebum had said in your apartment.

"You know, I need you too." He said.

"Why?" The question was honest curiosity. Sure, some people might think they wanted you, but you couldn't think of why anyone would need you. Especially Jaebum, who knew about all of the baggage that came with the package.

A little smile curled into the corners of his lips and he looked up, "Well there's a lot of reasons really." He settled back down and looked you in the eyes, "But... you always remind me that fighting isn't always the right answer."

"... But fighting follows me everywhere."

"I guess," he said after a moment, as if he hadn't thought about it before, "But like, not that I didn't almost do it today anyway, but in the past I definitely would have found your boyfriend and punched him in the face."

His gaze lowered and you realized he was looking at your wrist again. He put out his hand, but didn't touch you until you moved into his grasp. His thumb brushed over the welts with a feather-light touch, the metal of his ring cool and smooth on your warm skin.

"It'd probably make me feel better if I did." He continued, "But it wouldn't really help you."

He swallowed and slowly slid his hand into yours, sending a fluttery sensation from your fingertips to your chest.  
"And I realize that fighting doesn't just leave bruises on skin."

You bit your lip, and his gaze flicked back up before he let out an open smile.

"I love you, y/n."

You stiffened, breathing shallowing and body tensing at those words.

He kept smiling, and twisted his head, like he had expected that reaction, "So, why can I do this," he squeezed your clasped hands, "But I can't say that?"

"It's... different." You offered weakly. You pulled your hands up between your faces, "This is something that we do, words... Aren't. This makes me feel comforted, and happy, but words, words like that-..."

"They make you feel trapped."

You nodded.

He threaded his fingers through yours a little more comfortably, and nodded to himself. Once again, it was like he expected that, but this time, some sort of disappointment showed in his face.

"Jaebum,"

He looked up.

You looked into his cat-like eyes, watching the faint line of his pupils expand, "I'm just doing my best not to get hurt."

"I know you are," he murmured.

"And I've been hurt a lot before. But I've never been hurt by you, and I guess that's why I'm scared of you the most. I think, coming from you would be the most painful."

He surprised you, by looking away as his cheeks colored a little, "That's kind of sweet."

You gave a confused smile, "Is it?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat and focused on you again, "But you know I'll never try to hurt you, right?"

Now you felt your cheeks heating up all of the sudden, "Y- yeah."

His eyes were still smiling as he let go of your hand and brushed your hair back, "I know none of the relationships around you seem to turn out well, but, think about it, okay?"

Then, without waiting for a response, he was standing up and taking the trash off the table, "Now get some rest."

You strained your neck to watch him walk away into the kitchen, tossing your muffin wrappers and napkins before starting the dishes. Settling back into the couch, you snuggled deeper in the blanket, breathing in the smell.

Maybe, being like this wouldn't be so bad. Maybe it wouldn't be as big of a change as you had thought. You liked this. You liked him.

You began drifting off, your body heavier and heavier as your mind and soul felt like floating. You listened to the sounds of Jaebum cleaning in the kitchen, and cars passing outside. If your eyes had felt tired before, they were exhausted now, and you stopped trying to keep them open.

A thought came to you through the haze.  
When Jaebum would come over and things were fine with your parents you'd both stay at your house to play. But when they weren't and you went to his instead, there just always happened to be a good warm meal or snack. As a kid, you had always thought it was just a coincidence. Maybe you were completely wrong.

You fell asleep to the image of a much younger Jaebum peeking through the window to see if you were home, then running out across the fields to ask his mother to make something.

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back. It's me (and Mr Im ofc). Hope all of you lovlies enjoyed this fic because it's really one of my favorites that I've written. Hehe. Is my fancy for comfort showing again? Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this and if you liked it please leave kudos, feedback, share with other people that love comfort fics, ect! Where ever and whoever you are, I hope this made your day a little better <3


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